Authors: Alicia Buck
“Too late now. It’s done. Let’s just get out of here.” I glanced nervously behind me where Hior was still creating a racket, stopping everyone who passed. He searched unlucky passersby roughly for evidence of my shoes and backpack.
Four city guards passed us to deal with the commotion, and Rafan, Breeohan, and I walked as quickly as we could without seeming to flee. “You do have a way of attracting trouble, my lady,” Rafan said.
Breeohan snorted agreement. I chose to ignore both of them. Once we were far enough within the city for the smells, sights, and sounds of the river to have disappeared, I dropped the chameleon lacing.
“That’s quite a trick. I would be honored if you would show me the lacing, my lady,” Rafan said, his eyes intense with desire.
It made me uneasy. “Would you please stop calling me ‘my lady,’ Rafan? There’s no one else here.”
“I think it would be best if we kept up appearances just in case. Don’t you?” Rafan asked around me to Breeohan.
“It would be safest,” he replied.
I was annoyed at being talked over. “I don’t see how. What reason could Princess Kasala have for going to a river port four days inland?”
“Why
wouldn’t
the princess wish to sample the sights along the river of Kazik? We have some of the most beautiful cities in the world here,” Rafan countered smoothly.
“But I didn’t bring my servant. I’ve gathered going without servants is a major faux pas.” “Faux pas” didn’t translate. “Oh brother!” I groaned. “How am I ever supposed to make my point when no one can understand me?”
Rafan ignored my tantrum. “We’ll tell them I charmed you away with promises of all the servants you could desire.” He grinned lasciviously.
I sidled away an inch. “I’d really rather keep a low profile,” I said in as no-nonsense a tone as possible.
“It is a bit hard to stay unnoticed with eyes like yours,” Breeohan replied.
“I’ll keep my head down,” I said firmly.
“If that is what you’d really prefer,” Rafan said doubtfully.
“I would.” We were to a section of the city that looked clean, but unadorned, so when Rafan suggested that we stop at the building with the sign saying “Crown’s Rest,” neither Breeohan nor I argued. Thinking it might not be a good idea to let people see my backpack, I cast the chameleon lacing on the bag itself before we entered, earning a look of approval from both men. Rafan’s face showed he would not wait long before peppering me for details about how to do the lacing, but I looked away and kept my eyes downcast as Breeohan paid for supper and two rooms for the night.
The food was edible, and I wondered if I was starting to get used to the odd cuisine—just a little. We sat cross-legged on the floor and spoke very little before I retired to my small room with a narrow cot. The straw-stuffed mattress was a little lumpy, but it smelled fresh rather than musty, so sleep came quickly.
A knock woke me at dawn. I rolled slowly to my feet and unlatched the door, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Rafan and Breeohan stood outside looking far too alert and immaculately dressed for so early in the morning. “Going somewhere?” I asked in sudden hope, coming instantly awake at the thought that Breeohan had changed his mind and had decided to travel ahead of the king with me.
“I am. You and Rafan are not,” Breeohan said shortly.
“Breeohan, as much as I respect your ability to barter for the goods we’ll need, don’t you think it would be better if I go rather than you?” Rafan asked. “I seem to remember you coming to Tois before in your role as heir to the crown. You may be recognized.”
Breeohan’s brow furrowed. “That’s true, but it’s been several years. I doubt any would remember me.”
“It’s better to be safe, don’t you think? If Mary’s wish is to stay unrecognized in the city, the best person to acquire our goods would be me.” He turned to me. “I’ll regret missing time I could have spent with you, but this will be the best way to fulfill your wish of anonymity.” He bowed and raised his eyes flirtatiously to mine.
“Why don’t we all go? We could get supplies and be on our way,” I said.
“We’re not going anywhere until the king gets here.” Breeohan glared reproachfully.
Refusing to comment, I slumped onto the bed, my back to both men. Behind me I heard the door open then shut. Wanting to feel a connection to my old life and my purpose in this new place, I started to lift my shirt to change into my T-shirt and jeans, but a strangled yelp stopped me. I spun to see that Breeohan had not left the room after all.
Smoothing my tunic back in place, I growled. “What are you still doing in here?” Breeohan’s face was a dark umber, and my face felt warm as well. I thanked everything I knew that he hadn’t seen more than a sliver of my back.
It took a few moments for Breeohan to recover. “I’m here to make sure you don’t run off again.”
Anger quickly swamped my embarrassment. “So I can’t even be in my room by myself, huh? I’m to be under constant guard.”
“I will sit outside, if you wish.” He turned toward the door.
I jumped up from the bed and grabbed his shirt to stop him. “Why are you doing this?” I asked in exasperation.
His own eyes had turned angry as well. “I’m trying to protect you. Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”
“I’m not suicidal, just in a hurry. Waiting around for the king is a waste of time—time my mother may not have. And I don’t need your protection,” I stated emphatically, my face only inches from his as if that would prove my point better.
“Mary,” he said quietly, his voice strangely persuasive and gentle.
I suddenly felt awkward and confused with my face so close to his. I wanted to back away, but then he would know how unnerved I was, so I froze, unsure of what to do. “Yes?” I tried to say it sharply, but instead it came out in a timorous breath.
Breeohan’s eyes seemed to be boring holes into mine. I had to use all my strength of will not to squirm and look away. “Why do you
think
I’m doing this?” he asked so softly I wouldn’t have heard if I weren’t so uncomfortably close to him.
My insides quaked in unexplainable fear. I stepped back and looked frantically at the small window and then at the door past Breeohan, contemplating an impossible escape. “I don’t know,” I said. I looked down at my hands. They were trembling.
Breeohan’s dark brown hand hung inches from my own, and I watched in fascinated terror as it slowly rose toward my face. The tips of his fingers traced my cheek as lightly as butterfly’s wings. Then he started to raise my face, so I would look at him.
“Mary, I—”
There was a tap at the door. Breeohan and I jumped apart as though scalded.
The gravelly voice of Rafan came through the door in an urgent whisper. “It’s me. We have trouble.” Breeohan unlatched the door and opened it only enough for Rafan to slip in.
“What’s wrong?” I took in the sheen of sweat glistening on his face, the way his hair was slightly mussed, and his ripped sleeve.
“I was attacked. I managed to subdue the man, but I discovered from him that I wasn’t the real target. You are, Mary.” He locked eyes with me. “He said more men would be coming for you. We have to get out of here.”
“Who could know she is here?” Breeohan asked.
“I don’t know, but the man I questioned seemed to think there would be more than one person coming after her. We should leave now.”
“You’re right.” Breeohan turned to me. “I think it would be wisest to make our movements as little known as possible.”
“So we’re leaving the city?” I asked hopefully.
“Immediately,” was Breeohan’s short reply.
Much to my digruntlement, Breeohan slowly and carefully showed Rafan my chameleon lacing. I didn’t know why I felt so possessive of it, but the idea of others besides Breeohan and me knowing it made me feel edgy. I told myself I was just being selfish.
It took about twenty minutes before Rafan felt confident enough about the lacing to use it. I chafed at the delay now that I knew we would actually be in motion. I was only a step away from convincing Breeohan to keep moving until we reached Mom.
The three of us finally applied the chameleon lacing and moved out of the inn, holding onto shirttails to keep track of one another. No one noticed us slip by, nor did anyone but a small child even look in our direction as we slid through the streets of Tois. We didn’t head back to the river dock, which I regretted, though I realized it would not be smart to get on a boat in a city where someone seemed to be looking for me. Instead, we headed toward an area of town that smelled increasingly of manure.
“Since you were attacked, I think you should buy a horse first. We will come after to see if anyone is following you,” Breeohan commanded as we neared the first of the corrals at the horse market. Rafan made himself visible and went to barter for a mare whose ordinary dun color melded into a disconcerting burnished gold at the horse’s fetlocks and again at the strip on her head.
Breeohan and I followed in silence after he finished, darting glances in all directions for anyone who seemed interested in Rafan’s movements. After we passed two more corrals without noticing anything extraordinary, Breeohan whispered, “I will wait until you two have walked on for a few minutes and then buy another horse. We will meet one kenar outside the city on the road to Kospa. Mary, you ride with Rafan, but keep the lacing active.”
I tried to recall my Iberloahan map in my head. “Kospa is in the wrong direction,” I said.
“We are going back to meet the king,” Breeohan said sternly, grabbing my shirt for emphasis.
“Don’t you think that is just what someone would expect us to do?” Rafan whispered mildly.
“Not if they know Mary,” Breeohan said with a little too much sarcasm.
“Yes, but not that many people here actually know me, so if they’re after a princess rather than an American teenager, I think they’d plan on me fleeing toward the king, don’t you?” I asked persuasively.
“Unless they do know you are a sirista foreigner,” Breeohan mumbled almost inaudibly. His mouth turned out in what looked suspiciously like a pout. I wanted to ask what “sirista” meant but didn’t dare.
“Fine, we will meet one kenar outside the city on the road to
Cardo
,” Breeohan huffed before letting go of my shirt and fading into the background of the next horse corral to wait until Rafan and I were out of sight.
Rafan kept walking the horse until we passed the horse market and reached a building corner where we were mostly blocked from view. He mounted and held out a hand, looking blindly at a spot a few inches to the right of me. I viewed the horse with trepidation, never having actually ridden one before. But a man with his arm extended to a wall was bound to attract attention, no matter how secluded a spot, so I grabbed his hand and let him haul me up behind him, feeling the mare’s warmth beneath me as she shifted to accommodate the new weight on her blanketed back. We had no saddle, though Rafan used a bridle to steer her. My arms shot around Rafan’s waist and squeezed like a vise. He chuckled annoyingly, but I didn’t dare let go, even if he was interpreting my embrace as something other than fear.
The horse moved at a slow gait, but I still felt that any wrong shift could leave me flat on my back in the road. I concentrated on keeping my balance until Rafan had safely negotiated the mare out of the city. When the road straightened, making the fear of falling less intense, I slackened my hold around Rafan’s waist.
“That was quite a passionate embrace, my lady,” Rafan rasped.
I loosened my arms as much as I dared before replying, “I’ve never ridden a horse before. Where I come from, there’s usually a saddle to help a rider stay on.”
“A saddle would have been nice, but it’s not needed. It’s better to save our funds for other things, such as food. Feel free to keep your hold on me as tight as you wish.”
I took care to keep my limbs as loose as my nervous stomach would allow, but my care was foiled when Rafan suddenly urged the horse to go faster, forcing me to hang on tightly again.
“I don’t think I will slow at all until we get there. It seems the only way I can get you to hold me.” He laughed. I gritted my teeth, but couldn’t let go.
About a kenar outside of town, Rafan rode to a small hill that hid us from approaching travelers coming from the city. He swung down from the horse and turned to help me, but I slid quickly to the ground. The horse startled, and Rafan was forced to calm the creature. I retreated to a rock, still in my near invisible state, and sat quietly.
“Come, Mary, there is no need for you to stay unseen now,” Rafan said. “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. I know how shy you are,” he said contritely.
A loud “ha” burst out of my mouth. Shy!
Rafan didn’t interpret my outburst in the way I intended, however. “I really am sorry, Mary.” He sounded more sincere than before. “I promised I would wait for you to come to me, but I can’t help loving you. Waiting is more difficult than finding water in sand dunes.”
“You don’t love me, Rafan.”
“But I do. I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you.” The familiar glint of mischief shone in his eye as he headed toward where he’d heard my voice.
“I don’t believe in love at first sight. I believe that to love someone you must know them.” I moved to a different rock as Rafan slunk toward the sound of my words.
“And you don’t think I know you well enough to love you.” His lips curved up.
“No. You don’t know anything about me.”
Rafan turned, confused by my move. “I know more than you think.” He took tentative steps toward my new spot.
“Oh yeah? What’s my favorite color? What do I like to do most in my free time? What ideals and thoughts are most important to me? Do you know any of those things, Rafan?”
He sauntered much too quickly in the right direction so I moved again.
“I know you are loyal and beautiful and adorably shy and afraid.”
Again with the shy; it was really starting to tick me off. Plus, afraid? If I was scared, it definitely wasn’t of him. I could tell he expected me to challenge the scaredy-cat accusation, but I wasn’t falling for it. Okay, maybe I was. “I’m sorry, but I don’t love you, Rafan.” I couldn’t help but go on. “I’m not shy, and I’m not scared of you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t help the way I feel,” I said, trying to be nice despite my fury over the accusation of being afraid to love him.